


Death Did Not Come

by LesbianArcher



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Relationships, Gen, Inquisitor as Companion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-01 09:29:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6512749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LesbianArcher/pseuds/LesbianArcher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Detailing how Isera Lavellan joined the Inquisition and went from a hunter to a scout.<br/>Part of an Inquisitor as companion AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The day Death danced

Isera’s heart calmed as she slipped into the shadows. The shemlen passed by her with no knowledge of her existence. This is exactly how she preferred her life to go. Moving unnoticed was easy for her, and it meant less interaction with the shemlen.

Living among the Dalish didn’t exactly foster warm and fuzzy feelings with the shemlen. Hence, why she was on this trip in the first place. Keeper Deshanna had sent Isera along with the senior scouting party to give her more experience dealing with humans in a civil manner. Isera’s relationship with any human often ended in bloodshed, on both sides.

Moving downhill from the temple, back to the place they called Haven, she found fewer places to take cover. Snow was not her specialty. If the area were merely wooded no one would ever see her, but the trees were covered in snow and her footprints clearly marked.

So, reluctantly, she moved back onto the path. With her hood up, she kept her head lowered as she descended the steps.

No one commented or talked to her as she reached the bridge nearing Haven. Though, the guards there gave her some looks, but were too cold to do anything about it. She didn’t look too threatening either. Isera felt both angry and pleased with their underestimation of her. Angry because they didn’t think her a threat, and pleased it meant they would be easier to take out.

Crossing the bridge, she passed several chantry sisters conversing about the mage “problem.” A group of Templars grumbling about the cold. A pair of apostates eyeing the Templars suspiciously.

Isera didn’t concern herself with the shemlen’s problems normally, but now it was her instruction to do so. So, she made a point to remember what she heard.

Heading through Haven’s gates, she took notice of a new symbol that became more common. An eye with waves coming from it and a sword behind it. She heard them saying they were a part of something called the “Inquisition.”

The name alone made Isera nervous.

Now in Haven proper, Isera once again managed to blend into the surroundings and not be noticed. She slipped behind a building and took a deep breath, focusing on staying silent.

It was in those moments that the air shifted and a shockwave burst through the town, green light filled the sky, and a loud cracking noise cut the air.

Isera dropped down, covering her head and ears, and retreated back against the wall to hide and protect herself. Her hands were shaking and instincts told her to flee and hide. So, she stayed where she was.

The initial eplosive sound slowly faded and several aftershocks followed, but those faded as well. The light, however, did not fade. Isera looked into the sky and her stomach dropped.

Above the temple, green twisted and swirled in a haunting dance. Rocks were being lifted up into the air and swallowed by the green.

Isera ran.

Thoughts of her team filled her head as she shoved her way through the panicking crowds. She had to get there. She had to help them.

The entire world was in a panic. Screams and shouts filled her ears, but she didn’t hear them. She just heard the ringing in her ears from the blast and the silence in her gut that told her the team was dead.

As she crossed the bridge again, she told herself that she wasn’t a mage and that she couldn’t actually feel these things. That meant they could still be alive.

Right?

Yet, even as she ran through the snow and crowds, she knew they were dead. She had seen the massive… thing form in the sky. She heard the crack and felt the shockwave from the explosion. For anyone to have survived that, it would be nothing less of a miracle.

Her hands shook, and her chest tightened with each step. Denial was the only thing that kept her moving.

Time blurred as she climbed the mountain, the panicked faces that she passed only served to worry her more. She saw a child screaming, a man limping with a broken arm, a Templar being dragged by another away from the temple. She was close to the temple now. Just a few more staircases if she remembered correctly. 

As she climbed another staircase, she felt heat growing near her head. Reflex kicked in and she ducked down.

Green flames flew over head.

Eyes wide, she looked in the origin’s direction.

An abstract green form, the same shade as the thing in the sky, wavering form floated several yards from her.

When Isera reached for her bow she was met with the startling realization of just how cold her hands were. Even as she grabbed an arrow and notched it, her hands slipped from the stiffness.

She never had to loose the arrow though as sword cut through the green form and it dissipated with a distant yell.

Isera looked at the figure who had swung their sword.

Templar armor was the first thing she noticed. The next was long brown hair and intense eyes. The third was the rounded ears.

She swallowed, looking around to see if there were anymore of those creatures, or anymore Templars.

“Are you alright?” The Templar woman asked, looking around as well. “I think that was the last of that group.” She sighed in relief.

She paused, observing the Templar. Her armor was dirty, scuffed with dirt and what looked like blood, but something about it was off. Like it wasn’t from a person.

Isera gave a curt, “I’m fine.” Already this was likely the most civil conversation she ever had with a human.

The Templar nodded, then glanced over Isera. “You’re Dalish, yeah?”

Isera nodded, her body tensed again, her fingers tightening on the arrow, ready to draw and kill the Templar at a moments notice.

“Heard your people are good shots.” She declared simply, rolling her shoulders as she looked around the landscape.

“The best.” Isera said, her voice low enough to warn the Templar.

“Good.” The woman sighed. “Everything's gone to shit and demons are pouring out of green.. holes.. Or whatever.” Her hand motioned weakly. “The entire temple is gone.”

The only reason Isera didn’t vomit right there was because she didn’t want a shemlen to see her weak.

“I’m going.” Isera said simply, walking again towards the temple.

The Templar protested, “What? No!” The Templar reached out a hand to block her path. “There are too many of them, you’ll be slaughtered. Even the best fighter can’t handle a hoard of demons.” She said it sincerely, but Isera would not listen.

Isera bristled at the action. “My clansmen are up there. I will not abandon them, shemlen.” She spat sharply, dodging the Templars attempt to stop her and continuing.

She vaguely heard the Templar sigh, but her anger overwhelmed any regret. _How dare that shemlen give up so easily on my clansmen! My family! They have absolutely no concept of-_ Her internal rant was interrupted by the sound of armor moving up behind her.

Isera turned, dagger out. “Why do you follow, shem?” She snarled. The dagger glinted green for a moment, reflecting the light in the sky.

The Templar held her hands out, her expression exasperated. “I’m not just going to let you go out there on your own. I just came from there and letting someone go there alone is not something I'm willing to do.”

“Are you going to stab me in the back?” Isera’s lip curled.

The templar’s face twisted in disbelief. “No!” Her hands dropped in shock at the suggestion.

Isera scoffed, but turned away and continued walking. By the sound of steps behind her, it seemed the Templar was insistent on tagging along.

Isera grit her jaw and moved forward, faster than before. She’d just have to outlast the Templar.


	2. Not Today

Isera would never admit it, but the templar woman was good. Her strikes were effective and her magic negating effects against the demons were extremely useful. This did not mean Isera liked her. The shem was just… useful for now.

With quick reflexes and a trained eye she loosed an arrow into the skull of another demon, her stomach twisting again as she glanced up at the burning temple. She had to find them. They were there somewhere.

Stepping down from the wall she used as a perch to gain height and distance, Isera felt the snow crunch under her feet. The sound wasn’t surprising, but something about it made her tense. She paused, looking around for the Templar woman.

She was just finishing off the final demon in the area, her armor splattered with new blood over the dried. She nodded to Isera, a signal that she was ready to move on.

Isera frowned to herself at that. She told herself she had not been waiting for the woman. She didn’t wait for anyone but her clan. Isera turned sharply, continuing up the stairs.

The Templar’s armor rattled as she caught up with Isera. “The temple entrance collapsed.” She said, keeping up with Isera’s fast pace easily. She sighed when Isera didn’t respond or acknowledge her. “Where did you see your clansmen last?”

Isera’s steps slowed for a second, but then sped up again.

They were hanging around the entrance last she saw them. Their plan had been to enter once Isera had returned from scouting the village below. She prayed their plans had changed.

They crossed a hill and the gradual slope felt steeper than it should have been to Isera. She could hear herself breathing, but she couldn’t feel anything but the biting cold and wind. Her hair blew in her face and she pushed it back, unwilling to waste time to stop and tie it back again. She needed to find them. She had to.

She reached the entrance and everything turned a shade of green. The ash falling from the sky danced like what could have been leaves in a gentle breeze. The snow was illuminated green, almost like grass, and the stones could have been covered in moss.

However, those would have meant there was life in the green.

There was no life here. Only a green that made people sick. The green that tore apart families and took everything from you.  
Isera’s breath stopped at the sight. Mere hours ago she had stood here, looking forward to when they left this place and finally headed back towards the clan. She remembered looking at the temple entrance with annoyance. She remembered staring at the carvings, not understanding or appreciating them.

Now, she wished they were whole again. She wished she had not hated them so much because then maybe she would have gone with them inside, and then maybe this wouldn’t have happened.

It was a foolish thought and she knew that. Deep down, she knew that this was not her fault. How could it have been? That didn’t stop those thoughts from invading though. She should have been here with them, not running around gathering useless intel. It was her fault she wasn’t there.

She tried to stop herself from panicking, but it wasn’t working.

Especially not when she noticed something in the snow.

Metal. Melted and misshapen, but she recognized it still. The shine and color was sickeningly familiar.

Dalish arrowheads. She’d recognize them anywhere. Her mother forged them, after all. She forged every arrowhead with care and calculation. It was was these arrows that fed and defended the clan. They had to be perfect.

Her sorrow was replaced with a cold anger as she knelt down and lifted the metal pieces. They were still warm. It wasn’t an intense heat, but it still felt like a fire in her hands.

“There was an explosion.” The Templar was still there. She had forgotten. “They wouldn’t have felt any pain.” Her voice was soft, meant to comfort.

It didn’t comfort her. They didn’t even have a chance to escape. There was no warning. There was just the merciless slaughter of her family.

She ran her fingers over the metal, her stomach twisting once again. They were dead. They were really dead.  
For a few moments, Isera didn’t feel anything. She didn’t know what to think or say. She didn’t know how to react to the reality that she was alone here. She didn’t know…

A garbled screech echoed from the temple, giving Isera a sharp headache and pulling her focus. From the other side of the rubble, there were the sounds of shifting rock and then fire breached the top. More demons had arrived.

She reacted on instinct, dropping the misshapen metal and grabbing an arrow.

She notched and loosed the arrow within a second, the first landing in its chest and a second arrow piercing it’s head. It dropped to the ground, tumbling down and landing in a dull thud in the snow.

Satisfaction flooded her like a warm blanket after a long day. She didn’t know what had caused the explosion, but the demons were a result and she was going to take as many down as possible.

Another demon appeared, and Isera reached for another arrow. Even more appeared now. Not just from over the temple rubble. They began to appear in swarms from almost every direction.

“We need to leave. Now!” The Templar exclaimed urgently.

Isera’s arrow found another demon’s head.

The Templar didn’t waste time. She knew where this was going. A fool’s errand for revenge and some sort of satisfaction. She grabbed Isera’s bow and lowered it harshly, pulling her arms down and holding them there as the elf swore at her in elvhen.

“We are going to die if we stay here.” She declared urgently, holding Isera’s gaze with her own. “You’re in distress right now. You just lost people and you aren’t thinking straight. I understand. I’ve lost friends today too. However, I will knock you out and carry you down this damned mountain if I have to! I will not let another person die today. Not today.” Her voice softened.

Anger flooded Isera’s chest at her words. When she looked around again, ready to fight the templar, her mouth opening for a retort but the number of demons had doubled.

Isera looked back at the Templar, intensely. “Fine.” She spat.

The Templar nodded, then released her and raised her shield to block a burst of magic. She covered their retreat, Isera moving alongside her, stabbing or shooting anything that got too close.

As she sunk the daggers into the head of a shade, feeling the brief resistance and then the give as the daggers slid in and killed the shade, she told herself that this was for her clan. Someone had to go home. She had to live for her clan at home. She had to tell them what she saw here.

That was why she was here. The truth was not pleasant, but she would carry out this mission. She owed it to everyone she lost, and she owed it to the clan.


	3. Survival

Getting back to her clan was easier said than done. She had no supplies, no map, and no way to contact them. Those had all been with the others. As of now, she only had: her bow, seven arrows, two daggers, a candle, an empty an waterskin.

She didn’t go into that town, Haven, it was called.

When Isera and the templar woman approached Haven, everything was in chaos. People were shouting or crying. Rumors and accusations were being thrown between all parties. The mages thought the Templars did it and the Templars thought the mages did it. 

They were in chaos and Isera could not deal with that many humans without an incident. She knew herself well-enough in that regard.

The chaos gave her the perfect chance to slip away from the templar woman, who was currently defending herself and the templars to a group of angry mages. 

Most of the conversations around her talked about the lack of food and supplies for everyone. It seemed most of their food had been destroyed. Walking past the gates and weaving through the panicked people, Isera began to make her way towards the woods that she remembered ran alongside and beyond Haven.

She could probably hunt successfully there.

Looking around, it was already starting to darken. Isera guessed there were about two hours left before nightfall proper.

She wondered how dark it would get. The breach, as many seemed to be calling it, glowed green and lit up the sky even from this distance. She looked away and tried not to think about it. She needed to focus on hunting.

Pulling her bow from her back, Isera slowly moved through the forest.

This was something she could do. It was familiar and comforting. While moving through the woods she could almost pretend the events of today hadn’t happened. She could almost pretend that the scouting party was right there with her, hunting for food in the woods as they had done for the past several weeks. However, the lack of someone there was not something she could ignore. It set her on edge to be alone in the woods with no one to cover her back.

The Dalish hunted in pairs, unless you were highly advanced and capable of defending yourself while alone. Usually, those were only the leaders of hunting parties. It was a precaution to make sure younger hunters weren’t surprised by any predators or bandits.

To Isera’s bad-luck, there was not much of anything in the forest. She guessed the explosion scared most creatures away or scurrying back to their holes. One small scrap of luck presented her with a nug, which she quickly took out with an arrow.

Grabbing the nug and arrow, Isera circled back to a small protected clearing with thick trees over head.

Her next dilemma was how to start a fire. With no flint, she would have to rely upon pure friction to start a fire.

She was sitting crouched over a heap of damp twigs and sticks she’d bundled to start a fire. No matter how much pressure or how long Isera kept the stick twisting against the bark, the fire would not start. It would smoke and she would see the soft glow of embers briefly, but nothing would light on fire.

The Dalish usually had small leather pouches filled with dried leaves, grass, and sticks for this exact purpose.

She hadn’t been the one carrying them.

Between the combination of the ache in her arms, the feeling of hopelessness that overwhelmed her steadily, and the damp wood, Isera could not start a fire. The wood slipped from her hands again, scraping her skin to a point it almost bled, and the embers she’d created faded from view. With a sigh of defeat, she let the wood sit in the snow. Her hands were shaking and she could not see clearly from the steadily building tears forming in her eyes.

Sitting there, alone and cold, the numbness that had followed her down from the mountain slowly faded.

As she took a deep breath to calm herself down in order to try again, the silence of the world overwhelmed her. It took every shred of hope from her and pushed sorrow into her head. Every sound she made was absorbed into the snow.

She was alone for the first time in her life and it scared her more than anything.

Dalish camps were always filled with sound. Be it the cracking of a fire, children laughing, adults talking, or even the halla bickering amongst themselves, there was  _ always  _ noise.

She wanted to be home. She wanted to settle into the tents and laugh about the things that had happened today while curled up in the wool blankets. 

But in reality, she was alone. Without her clan, she couldn’t even make a simple fire. Without her clan, she felt useless.

She had to make it home. Her family was still alive, and her clan was still alive. It was those lives that made her own life worth living.

She had to survive for them.

Taking another shaky breath and wiping the tears from her eyes, Isera stared at the nug lying across from her.

How was she going to get fire? That was her only dilemma right now. She needed warmth food.

An idea came to her when she heard distant shouts that had echoed up from Haven.

It wasn’t ideal by any measure, but it would have to do.

Hurriedly packing the little belongings she had and pushing snow over the failed fire, Isera began her journey back towards Haven using what little light she had left.

This time, to her rising luck, she saw two more nugs on the path.

With a quick prayer to Andruil and two carefully placed shots in succession, Isera had more food. Quickly stringing them up with the first nug, Isera secure the rope and walked towards Haven once more.

What did the humans need that she had? Food.

What did they have that she needed? Fire.

It was a trade she hopes she could calm herself down long enough to make. She could find a group of people around a campfire and bargain with them. Use of their fire in return for two of the nugs.

As she found the path and headed towards Haven, now carrying food, more eyes were on her. Good. That would make this easier.

However, the eyes also made Isera feel increasingly exposed and uncomfortable. She did not like this many people watching her at once.

She began to regret this plan when a shemlen man stepped out, halfway blocking her path.

She stopped and looked at him appraisingly. He wore a mismatched leather armor with a sword at his waist. Likely a mercenary.

“That’s an awful lot of food for just one person.” His accent was Orlesian. Probably. Isera was terrible with human accents. “Especially someone as young as you.”

Isera did not reply, she simply tilted her head, waiting to see what his next move was.

“I don’t think you’ll need all of it.” He continued, his hand resting upon his sword and his back straightened.

The intimidation factor he presented did not affect Isera, but she still found her words getting caught in her throat.

“Come on, rabbit.” The man sighed, taking another step forward and pulling the blade out an inch. “I’d hate to have to just take it from you.”

The slur sent Isera’s hand to her dagger. “You could try it, shem.” She spat, pulling the dagger that she fully intended to lodge in the man’s chest if he took so much as another step.

Before either Isera or the man could make good on their threats, an elven woman stepped between them. “I suggest you find food yourself.” She said evenly.

The man scoffed, then sneered, “Looks like you rabbits do breed quickly.” He turned away.

Isera lunged forward ready to kill, but the woman placed a hand on Isera’s shoulder and maintained her spot between the two of them.

“Killing him would have only caused you trouble.” The woman sighed, turning back to Isera and running a hand through her own red hair. “You’re Dalish, yeah?” She commented.

Isera didn’t respond to that, only noted that this woman was not Dalish.

“You should get back to your clan.” she simply declared, then mumbled as more of an afterthought,  “Walking around with that much food right now is the fastest way to get robbed and killed.”

“They’re dead.” Isera didn’t know why she blurted it out, but she had a feeling this woman could get her what she wanted. That, and while she was a City elf, at least she wasn’t a human.

The elf sighed, running her hand through her hair again. “I see.” It was obviously a story she’d heard many times today. Then she took a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly as she looked at the nugs again. “Then, why do you have so much food?”

Isera avoided eye contact, suddenly feeling self-conscious and doubting herself. “I don’t have flint and all the wood was too damp to start a fire any other way.” She said, almost mumbling, but resisting so she wouldn’t have to repeat it.

The woman’s face was blank for a few moments, then her eyes widened in understanding and she nodded her head. “So you decided to trade food for fire. Smart.” She looked back towards Haven briefly, her face thoughtful. Then she began to bargain.“The Inquisition needs food to feed both it’s people and those who’ve gathered here. You’d get a proper portion of all food you bring in and a warm place to sleep on top of that.” She proposed.

Isera paused, not wanting to agree to anything rashly. However, it was currently her only option.

At Isera’s acceptant nod, the woman motioned for Isera to follow her towards Haven. “This way.”

Isera followed closely, avoiding as many people as she could.

The woman led Isera through the large gate that signified Haven proper, and then up several sets of stairs. It was still crowded inside of the gates too. There were even more people with the eye and sword symbol she had seen earlier today.

As they walked, Isera’s curiosity grew and she spoke up. “Who are you?”

“You may call me Charter.” The woman declared. “I’m with the Inquisition.” She glanced back at Isera and saw her blank expression. “The Inquisition is separate from the Chantry, the Templars, and the Mages. It’s a neutral organization founded by Divine Justinia. It was formed recently as a precaution in case events turned out… Well, exactly as they did.”

Isera hummed to show she’d heard Chater, not entirely interested in the politics of the humans and their organizations.

“You are?” Charter changed the subject.

“Isera Lavellan.” She responded after a small pause.

“Lavellan?” Charter hummed thoughtfully. “I do recall them being in the category of friendly Dalish tribes.”

_ ‘It was that friendliness that got them killed _ .’ Isera thought bitterly, but kept it to herself. Keeper Istimaethoriel had told her, ‘ _ When dealing with humans, da’len, in your case I believe that silence is the better option at times _ .’ Silence was something Isera was good at, thankfully.

“Quartermaster Threnn!” Charter spoke to a woman leaning over a table covered with papers, her posture stressed.

“Yes, what is it now?” She looked up, sighing.

“This is Isera Lavellan.” Charter introduced, then was cut off before she could continue.

“I don’t have all evening. Was there something you needed or can I go back to figuring out how to provide for everyone?” The human was curt, and while fundamentally Isera understood it and knew why, it still bothered her.

“Isera hunts.” Charter said bluntly. “She caught some extra to trade in exchange for being able to cook her own.

That got the human’s undivided attention. She looked at Isera, who held the nugs up for extra proof.

“Oh, Maker bless you.” Quartermaster Threnn sighed. “We’ve been rationing as best we can, but with all the deaths and injuries we haven’t had as many hunters as we need.” She took a moment to compose herself, and then straightened her back. “Alright. Isera Lavellan? I’ll make sure your name is on the list when everything is ready. Just leave the nugs here and I’ll bring them to the cooks.”

Isera paused, hesitant. She hadn’t intended to turn all three nugs over, but it seemed like that was how things were going to happen. Charter understood her hesitation. “The Inquisition will feed you properly.” She said firmly, and Isera placed the nugs on the section of the table not occupied with papers.

Quartermaster Threnn hurried them away so she could work.

“Alright, now let’s find you a place to sleep.” Charter declared. “Follow me.”

As Isera followed behind Charter, who was leading her towards a group of tents, she asked, “Why are you helping me?”

Charter glanced back, and smiled, “Because you’re alone. You can hunt, but you couldn’t cook. This way, you get fed, you help others get fed, and you get a safe place to sleep until this all settles down and you can go back to your clan.” She declared.

She pulled back the opening to one of the tents, then laughed, “Or even stay, if you decide to.”

Isera hummed in acknowledgement. As she entered the tent, she was already looking forward to the day she could leave this place and go home. The sooner she was rid of this human catastrophe, the better.


	4. News

While clan-life made Isera accustomed to sharing tents, and even beds, the experience of sharing a tent with shemlen was entirely different and something Isera wished she could have avoided. There were two others living in the tent with her. Chantry sisters most likely, based on how they prattled on and on about the Maker and Andraste.

As it turns out, humans also have different ideas of modesty than the Dalish. So, while Isera was completely comfortable sitting in nothing but chest wraps and pants, the Chantry sisters acted like she was sinning right before them.

Speaking of sinning, Isera did plenty of that in front of them as well. She prayed to Mythal to protect her, Falon’Din to guide the souls of her fallen clansmen, and Ghilan’nain to guide her and make sure she did not get lost.

While Isera did derive satisfaction from seeing them rush from the tent, it also served as a reminder of how she did not belong here. Regardless of her fears, Isera maintained her pride to be Dalish and she was not ashamed of what she believed.

Thankfully, she only saw the Chantry sisters during the night. During the day, she was out hunting.

Hunting alone took time to get used to, but once Isera grew accustomed to it she actually enjoyed it. She would take being alone in the forest over being stuck with the shemlen any day. Despite her growing fondness for being alone, Isera still missed having someone she trusted implicitly at her back.

When she hunted, it became a time for her to think about home to motivate herself. It gave her time to complete the prayers and offerings to Andruil before and after the hunt. While there, she also completed her other prayers once again. There was a small part of her that felt bad for using her culture to scare the humans, so she compensated by repeating them properly. When alone, Isera could be Dalish and not be judged.

Living among the shemlen did nothing for her attitude towards them. If anything, after the amount of hate she had received from them, it had only served to strengthen her dislike for them. She had yet to shed blood, but there had been times she was very close to it.

After her hunts, Isera would head back with whatever she’d caught and give it to the Quartermaster, who was the one Shem who always seemed happy to see her. Probably because no one else brought in as much food.

Charter checked in with her semi-daily.

Every day Isera asked the same question, “Any news from my clan?”

“Not yet, I’m sorry.” Charter’s apology was starting to lose it’s effect.

On the third day, the camp was busier than normal.

Apparently that Qunari woman, the one that had stepped from the rift, was awake. Everyone said she was responsible for the breach. If she was, Isera would not mourn her execution.

Normally Isera did not pay much attention to the shemlen’s politics. Now, she eavesdropped more than she cared to admit and gathered information that could be useful for the clan.

When she returned from hunting to hear everyone praising the Qunari woman as the Herald of Andraste, she was very confused. Just that morning they had been calling for her death. It seemed the woman almost died while trying to help them close the breach.

Isera settled down to eat just behind a group of scouts and soldiers, some of which had seen the Qunari firsthand.

Before they said anything interesting, Charter approached.

“You’ve been doing good work.” The city elf commented, sitting next to Isera with her own bowl of stew. “Quartermaster Threnn is practically singing your praises.”

“I am simply doing what I have to.” Isera replied blandly. She was not interested in praise from the shem.

After a pause Charter asked, “Would you consider joining the Inquisition? We could use the extra help, and you’re good at keeping quiet.”

The question shocked her. The idea of staying here had never crossed her mind. It wasn’t even an option to her. “I need to get back to my clan.” She declared. That was her goal. That was why she was alive still.

Charter sighed. “I figured you’d say that, but I had to try.” She smiled, shrugging.

A week later, as Isera returned from breakfast she noticed Charter standing at the entrance to her shared tent, looking in. She saw a letter in Charter’s hand and hope filled her. Isera tried to cover it, telling herself it probably wasn’t her clan.

Charter turned when she heard Isera approaching, and then she smiled widely. The smile only increased the hope in Isera. “You said you were apart of Clan Lavellan, correct?” Charter asked, glancing down at the letter briefly before looking back up at isera.

“Yes.” Isera’s voice was quiet as she shifted her weight nervously, rolling a piece of fabric between her fingers, wondering if she was finally going to be in contact with her clan.

“Then, I have good news.” Charter help up the letter. “We know how to contact them now.”

Isera felt weeks of tension and stress lift from her as she took a deep breath and then let it out in a shocked laughed. She couldn’t speak as she processed the fact that the thing she had been waiting for had finally happened.

Charter smiled. “They sent us a letter, asking if any of your clan was still alive. We just connected it to you today.” she explained, then her voice softened. “We thought that they would prefer to hear from you directly.”

Isera nodded her thanks, the reminder of their deaths souring her mood slightly.

“Alright, here’s their letter. I’ll drop a paper and quill in your tent later today.” Charter declared, placing the letter in Isera’s already outstretched hand. “See you later.”

Isera gripped the letter tightly, watching Charter as she walked away.

She stood still for a few moments, fingers tracing the folded edges of paper in her hands. She bit her lip, nerves taking over. She was excited, yet at the same time nervous to hear from her clan. What had they said? Who had sent it?

With a sudden burst of energy, Isera grabbed her bow and quiver from inside the tent and headed towards the forest.

Weaving through the morning crowds, she got a few annoyed looks as she impatiently moved through them. Isera didn’t care. Right now, all she wanted was to get to the forest and read the letter alone.

When she crossed the gates, she kept her speed up. The guards looked at her oddly, one of them opening their mouth to ask her why she was in such a rush. Isera looked away from him and just sped up.

Isera dropped her gear at the edge of the forest, cleaning a snow covered rock off to sit on.

Her finger shaking slightly, Isera opened the letter. The seal was already broken, which wasn’t shocking since it was sent to the Inquisition.

 

 

> _Clan Lavellan offers greetings to the Inquisition and wishes it well in sealing the Breach that has opened in the sky. While some Dalish clans hate humans and wish nothing to do with them, Clan Lavellan has always dealt fairly with all and wished only for peace. That said, we have on occasion been forced to defend ourselves from those who saw us only as potential victims._
> 
> _We are inquiring about several members of our clan who attended the Conclave to observe the peace talks between your mages and templars. We have not heard any news from them and fear the worst. It would ease our minds to hear of their fate, and if they live to hear from them._
> 
> _We await your reply,_
> 
> _Keeper Istimaethoriel Lavellan_

 

Seeing the familiar handwriting of the Keeper was thrilling. It assured her that her clan was still alive and had not forgotten her. A simple letter had given Isera a confidence she hadn't felt since the breach. She had to keep fighting. She couldn't give up.


End file.
